


Tipping Point

by Deannie



Series: They Came Upon a Midnight Clear [11]
Category: The Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: Community: hc_bingo, M/M, Old West Zombie AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-10
Updated: 2016-12-10
Packaged: 2018-09-07 20:11:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8814607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deannie/pseuds/Deannie
Summary: Hell, they didn’t even know what happened to a person like Ezra when they died. Did they die? Body and soul and a pine box? Or, like Hannah, would someone—someone who cared about them—have to take care of their bodies when the parasites took over?





	

**Author's Note:**

> for the hc_bingo prompt surgery
> 
> Takes place a couple of months after [To Wake Up Safe](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7664734/chapters/17453473) in the [Cowboys and Zombies](http://archiveofourown.org/series/372518) universe.

It was easy, sometimes, to forget that the undead weren’t the only ones out to get you.

“Get him to the quarantine,” Nathan yelled, jumping off his horse and heading for the door of the big white house outside of town.

“Shouldn’t we bring him inside the gates?” Buck called, holding tight to the man lolling in the saddle in front of him.

“Ain’t time,” Nathan called back over his shoulder. “And if he gets too bad…”

Buck looked down at the back of Ezra’s head, feeling blood seeping through the gambler’s jacket and over his own hand.  _ If he gets too bad, he’s gonna die by a different bullet entirely. _

“Damn,” Buck whispered, handing Ezra down to Josiah long enough to dismount so they could string Standish between them. “All right, Ezra,” he murmured as they dragged him through the door and up the stairs. “You hold on, you hear me?”

Of course, Ezra didn’t answer.

They laid him out on the bed and let Nathan have at him, the healer tight and worried in his movements. “Don’t look good,” he said sadly. “Bullet’s still in there, and it’s a hell of a gut shot.”

Buck groaned. “I’d best go into town and let the others know,” he said quietly. He looked at Ezra, thinking on what Chris’s response would be. “You do everything you can,” he told Nathan.

“Never do anything but,” Nathan assured him, pushing on the belly wound that still bled. “Gonna have to risk taking it out if he’s gonna have a chance to heal.”

The grim pronouncement had Josiah reluctantly drawing his gun. Just in case.

“Damn, I ain’t never hunted a bullet this deep,” Nathan whispered. “Gonna have to open him all the way up.” 

And that might turn him zombie, just from the trauma of it. Buck sighed.

Hell of a way to start your day…

*******

“What the hell happened?” Chris asked, standing in the hall at the bottom of the stairs. Nathan had Mary Travis in helping him find the bullet and Josiah standing guard. Mary was going to be a thing to deal with when this was done, no matter the outcome. Nathan needed her in there, but stripped to the waist, Ezra’s scar—and his secret—were hard to hide.

“We were heading back,” Buck said, running a hand through his hair. “Damn thieves were idiots. Walked right out on the road and demanded everything.”

Chris nodded. Wasn’t a new thing—hell, there’d been thieves on the trail long before the zombies joined them there. “And?”

“Ezra opened his mouth,” Buck said wryly. “Hell, when doesn’t he? Tried to convince them they’d do better waylaying a ‘less prodigiously armed contingent.’” He blew out a deep breath. “Leader took exception.”

“God damn it…” Chris gritted his teeth looking up at the closed door. Waiting for a gunshot. “Where are they now?”

“All dead.” Buck was clearly more disappointed than Chris would have been in his place. “Ezra hit the leader in the head with that peashooter of his and the rest of them didn’t give me and Nathan any choice.” He looked up at the door for the first time since they’d walked in the damn place. “We had to get him home.”

“Thank you,” Chris whispered. He wanted to go up there. See him. Regardless of Ezra’s misgivings, Chris knew how the man felt about him. Probably better than how he felt himself. Ezra was a… a want. A need in his bones. A need that wouldn’t ever be met now, he feared.

The door at the top of the stairs opened, and Mary walked out, surprised to see the two of them waiting.

“Nathan is finishing up,” she said quietly. “He’s removed the bullet, but… there’s a lot of damage.” Her eyes went hard, and Chris braced himself. “I can’t believe none of you told me.” She looked over at Buck as she walked down the stairs. “Do you all know?”

“Us and JD is all,” Chris said evenly. He wasn’t justifying this. “Mary, this was his story to tell.”

“But a survivor,” she argued. “Here? I have been fighting tooth and nail to prove to people that it’s possible, and—”

“And Ezra didn’t want, and didn’t  _ need _ to be trotted out as an example.” Buck gritted his teeth. “Man’s spent the last nine months thinking he’s less than human, Mary—hell, he  _ still _ thinks it. You really think making him the poster boy for the cause is going to help?”

Mary shook her head in irritation, though Chris could see understanding in her face.

“Nathan wants to take a blood sample as soon as possible,” she said, changing the subject ruthlessly and walking past them into the main room.

Chris sighed and looked back up at the door at the top of the stairs.

*******

Chris didn’t sit with him, and Nathan didn’t blame him. He didn’t know what exactly was between the two men, or if  _ they _ even knew, but Chris didn’t need to be the man in that room, that was for damn sure.

Any man who sat vigil with Ezra Standish kept a pistol in his hand. Ezra slept like the dead, and Nathan tested the gambler’s blood every two hours. The contaminant kept rising. There was a thing called a tipping point, where the contaminant would be too much for his system. Like that poor woman in Denver.

Nathan didn’t know exactly what Ezra’s tipping point was, but cutting him open to find that bullet had surely pushed him toward it. Shaking his head, he took up his needle and headed to the room he was damn sick of visiting. 

Josiah nodded at him as he walked in. The old preacher was tired and haunted and Nathan couldn’t help but remember the day the two of them had met. He wished Josiah would leave, but he’d taken half the watches already. Like he had an obligation to see Ezra to his rest the same as he’d done for his sister.

“Still sleeping?” Nathan asked, though he could see that was the case. Standish was all but dead under the sheet, his chest rising and falling the tiniest bit to let them know he was alive. Nathan checked the wound and hope wormed its way in, just a little. What had been a long slash, where he’d cut in to find the bullet, was finally healing. 

Nathan sagged back and closed his eyes. 

“You did what you could, Nathan,” Josiah said quietly. “He could have died that first night and you know it.”

Nathan shuddered at the thought. Hell, they didn’t even know what happened to a person like Ezra when they died. Did they  _ die _ ? Body and soul and a pine box? Or, like Hannah, would someone—someone who cared about them—have to take care of their bodies when the parasites took over?

“Contaminant’s still high,” Nathan said sadly, taking another sample. “I don’t know…”

“None of us does,” Josiah reminded him. “Nobody but God.”

Nathan watched his patient barely breathe. “God’s got a hell of a lot to answer for.”

Josiah snorted. “That He does.” He stared at Ezra. “Let’s hope our friend here doesn’t have a chance to ask Him about it any time soon.”

*******

Chris didn’t turn to whiskey, which should have surprised Buck. But Chris was different now, like the world was different. Buck sat in the saloon and watched Chris sip his beer and stare at the wall until he couldn’t stand it anymore.

“You know it ain’t that far a walk,” he pointed out gently, sitting across from his friend. 

Chris grimaced and shook his head. “Nothing to do there I can’t do here.”

Buck nodded. “Except maybe see him before it’s too late.”

The silence went on too long and Chris finally slammed his mug down. “I ain’t gonna be the one—”

“Course you ain’t,” Buck assured him. “Jesus, Chris, what the hell are you thinking?” He sighed. “I’m not talking about guard duty. I’m talking about saying goodbye.”

Chris sagged back in his chair. “I ain’t ready to do that, Buck.”

Buck stood up. “Let’s hope you are before it’s too late, then.”

He left to take up his pistol and watch over his friend and hoped Chris’d be there before nightfall.

*******

Chris nearly wasn’t. 

He spent the rest of the day trying not to think about Ezra. About them. About what it would mean if he walked into that big white house and said… hell, anything at all. 

Problem was, his walks around town, trying to ignore the problem, inevitably led him the paddock by the east gate. Chaucer was there, throwing her mane around and baiting Job as was her way. She was the perfect compliment to her rider: strong, playful, stubborn as hell.

Job let her get close enough to nip him, then pulled away at the last moment. Teasing.

God damn the two of them just danced around each other endlessly.  _ Like riders like horses, _ he thought wryly.

One of these days, though, Chris knew Chaucer was going to let herself get caught. He wasn’t so sure about Ezra.

_ But there’s no way to find out, unless you get your ass out there and see him, is there? _

With a growl, Chris looked toward the west and the setting sun, and headed for the building he’d been avoiding for two days now.

*****

Josiah settled himself at the dining table in the big white house and sighed, looking up at that damn door. It had been too long. Tomorrow morning would be 48 hours, and while the wound and the surgery site were healing, Ezra wasn’t waking up. His blood was full of evil and… 

The front door open, and Josiah had his pistol in his hand before he realized who stood there.  _ About damn time _ , he thought.

“Evening, Chris,” he said quietly, motioning to the stove with his mug. “Coffee’s there if you want it.”

“Where’s Nathan?” Chris asked instead, looking up the stairs. 

“Same place you’d think,” Josiah replied. “Taking another blood sample. Buck’s there as well.”

Chris nodded.

“Wound’s healing.”

“Yeah,” the younger man said. “Buck told me.”

“You going up?”

Chris grinned a little. “Guess that’s the question of the day, ain’t it?”

Josiah sipped his coffee. “You know, if anyone’d cheat death, it’d be Ezra, you know that.”

His companion was silent, and Josiah thought about all the pussy-footing around each other the two of them had done.

“He’ll come around,” he said confidently, grinning big when Chris gave him an angry look. “Question is, will you?”

Chris looked like he was going to say something, but closed his mouth instead and headed for the stairs.

“Figured,” Josiah said quietly. Chris had a lot more courage than he thought.

*********

The room was brightly lit and Chris wondered if that was so they could see Ezra clearly if he turned. The thought soured Chris’s stomach and he wondered again if this was the best idea.

But there was Ezra. Lying silent and unmoving and undeniably not dead yet. Nathan was blocking part of the view, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Ain’t been any change in his blood yet,” the healer volunteered immediately, standing. “But the wound’s healed completely in the past few hours.”

Chris nodded mutely, staring at the unblemished skin of Ezra’s stomach, at the hideous scar on his chest. God…

“Think he’s through the worst of it?” Chris found the will to ask.

Nathan shrugged. “I think we don’t have any idea how this really works, so we’d best just let him take the lead.”

Chris almost laughed at that. That was what he’d been doing the whole damn time. Letting Ezra set the pace. Letting him decide what the two of them would do or not do. Mostly not do.

Maybe he should just—

The bell on the western gate started clanging and Buck was at the window in an instant.

“Five of them,” he said quietly, raising his rifle. “Reckon I’ll give ‘em a hand.”

Whether it was the zombies or just time to finally wake, Chris was surprised by a hand grabbing his wrist. He looked down into Ezra’s clear green, fully alive eyes. 

“I expect my guns have been removed?” Ezra rasped, his throat dry.

“Ain’t time for you to use ‘em,” Chris said gently. The rifles outside stopped and the gate tower rang all clear.

“Pity,” Ezra said, falling back on the bed. “I feel as if I’ve been abed too long.”

Buck chuckled, and Chris realized his friend and Nathan had both come over to stand next to the bed. “Damn right you have, Ezra,” he said. “About time you woke up.”

Ezra clearly played his memories over in his mind. “Lord… How…?”

“Nathan went in and cut the bullet out,” Chris told him. It was suddenly easier to say now.

“Damn near sent you over the edge,” Nathan grumbled.

But Ezra met the healer’s eyes candidly. “I expect that bandit’s gun would have done the lion’s share of that work, had it come to pass.” He held up a hand and Nathan clasped his wrist. “Thank you.”

Nathan’s face brightened, like years were falling off of it. “Just glad to see you awake.”

“And hungr—” Ezra’s plea for food dissolved into a vicious coughing fit that spooked Chris down to his toes. 

“He done this the first time, Chris, remember?” Nathan reminded him, digging in Ezra’s saddlebag until he came up with a pouch of candies. “Ezra, take one,” he said sharply, gaining the man’s slightly panicked attention. “I’ll get you a drink and something stronger.”

Ezra gave a small nod, looking to Chris for something. Comfort, support, something.

Chris reached out and started to run a hand down his back. “Breathe easy, Ezra,” he murmured, his hand slow circles on the man’s bare skin. He looked up at Buck and saw him watching the window, not the two men on the bed.

“Nearly lost you, damn it,” Chris whispered. “I don’t plan on doing it for real, you hear me?” He added more caress to his massage as Ezra’s cough finally eased up. “Like it or not, you’re stuck with me.”

Ezra grinned uncertainly, want and need in it like Chris had in his own. 

“I believe I can live with that, Mr. Larabee,” he ground out through a sore and aching throat.

“Damn right you can.”

*******   
the end


End file.
